Mob Rules

By Peter Smith

A story of a young man forced into tranvestism by his sisters.

A gangster family is virtually destroyed by competitors. The mother arranges refuge for the survivors with another family, but the host insists only the women will be welcome, because succouring any menfolk is far too dangerous. The young brother is disguised and feminized by his sisters, and introduced as their maid 'Mary'. The mother is killed before they can escape, but the survivors are tolerated by their host out of respect for their mother's memory. The daughter of the house then takes an undue interest in her guests' maid.

• Language: English
• Publisher: wry fellow
• Release date: Oct 26, 2015
• ISBN: 9781519924506

Book preview

Mob Rules

Erotic forced transvestism with soft BDSM wrapped in an adventure story.

A story of a young man forced into tranvestism by his sisters.

A gangster family is virtually destroyed by competitors. The mother arranges refuge for the survivors with another family, but the host insists only the women will be welcome, because succouring any menfolk is far too dangerous. The young brother is disguised and feminized by his sisters, and introduced as their maid 'Mary'. The mother is killed before they can escape, but the survivors are tolerated by their host out of respect for their mother's memory. The daughter of the house then takes an undue interest in her guests' maid.

1. Night of Fires and Bullets

The phone was ringing and mother answered it. "Hello ... she started, but was interrupted by father's insistent command. Dora, we've been ambushed by Caglini. We're surrounded - most of my men are already dead. Berscolli betrayed us, and took his men over to help rub us out. I'm bleeding to death. Don't wait for me! Get out! They are already on the way to the house! Love you. Bye...."

We could clearly hear gunshots after my father's last words, and then an ominous silence until the phone clicked as some person unknown replaced the distant receiver.

We stood around mother , who continued to hold the phone to her ear. We were all turned to stone with wide gaping mouths. Father sometimes played stupid jokes on us, but this seemed so real. Mother recovered first. She knew father best, and knew that it was no joke. Use the tunnel! she commanded us as loud knocks sounded on the front door. We scampered down to the cellar, as mother returned and shouted to delay the visitors. Who's There? She was answered by tommygun fire through the door itself, and was cut down to fall in a bloodied heap. Go, go, go .. she gasped her last, as the cellar door swung closed behind us.

Jocelyn had already opened the  tunnel entrance, and held it open as Rita and Jane sped through into the antechamber. Hurry! she commanded me, as I brushed past her. She released the sprung door behind me. The girls each grabbed their emergency suitcases and hurried along the tunnel. I grabbed my suitcase and followed them breathlessly.

The tunnel ended in the summerhouse in the corner of our garden. I closed the trapdoor behind me and joined the girls observing the main house. The front room was on fire - a bullet must have severed a gas pipe or something, and the firelight showed a ring of grim, armed men surrounding the house. They obviously wanted no loose ends. The fire suddenly spread into the hallway with a whooshing sound, and the burning timber crackled fiercely. A man ran out of the shattered front door - beating at his singed clothing. "Damn the bloody fire!" he shouted, I can't search for his bloody kids in this heat!

The dessicated timbers of my home became my mother's funeral pyre. I sobbed in grief in chorus with Rita and Jane, but Jocelyn was the sensible one. Not now, you three! We have to go! Get moving! She led us to the hole in the hedge and out onto the street. Neighbours were gathering to stare as the house became a huge bonfire - these traditional wooden buildings are terrible fire-traps.  As the alarms and klaxons of police and fire brigade advertized the approach of officialdom, dark lurking figures scurried to scattered cars and made their escape.

Led in single file by Jocelyn, we walked quietly to the intersection carrying our suitcases, and waited for the bus. The escape plan was quite specific, and we knew it by heart. Our hearts were beating like drums, but nobody seemed to notice us.

After the bus ride, Jocelyn chose a motel, and paid for a room. We all sank gratefully onto the bed, but Jocelyn was still thinking. We have to keep a really low profile. she said, and suddenly sat up to look at the suitcases. Rod, I see you grabbed mother's suitcase, but where is yours? I was dumbfounded. I thought I had mine. I had  taken the wrong one in our panic to escape. Jocelyn had read my face and needed no explanation. Mother's case is much more useful to us. she declared, It has money, chequebooks, and passports.  she chanted as she dragged it to her and opened it wide.

After careful inspection of the document folder, Jocelyn excused herself and went to the payphone. As soon as the door closed behind her, Jane burst into tears of grief. Rita cuddled her and mingled her tears and sobs, and of course, that set me off.

When Jocelyn returned, we were all bawling uncontrollably, but her impatient commanding presence stopped us in mid flow.

"Mother has a brother in the next county, and his phone number was first in her list of useful numbers. I just rang him, and explained what has happened, and he says we can stay with him for a while providing that no police and none of  Caglini's men are on to us.

He wants us to stay in the motel tonight. I suspect he's going to send one of his men over to watch for tails." We all breathed deeply and expressed our gratitude to our unknown uncle. However, Jocelyn had special news for me, Sorry, Rod. Uncle says girls only. He was insistent, so I had to tell him that it was just we three girls and our maid. I gasped and looked silently into her face for an explanation. He knows Caglini will want to eliminate all dad's heirs. and if Caglini eventually cottons on that the new man at his house is you, then uncle will be rubbed out too. He sees harbouring orphan girls as much less risky. I told him you had already separated.

She looked at me sadly. Rod, You've got to dress like a girl! she finished.

I can't dress like a girl! I protested, I would rather die! I paused briefly.

I'll find a gun and go after Caglini myself! I declared. If I don't kill him I'll die trying! I paused again as resentment erupted. Hiding in a girl's skirt is not for me. Do you imagine that I'm some sort of fairy or faggot? I stood tall and proud ready to dispute with all naysayers.

Jocelyn took my arm and sat me beside her on the bed. You can't! she said simply, and gazed into my eyes hypnotically. You know about us going to stay with uncle, and when Caglini captures you he'll find us all and rub us all out. Do you want us all killed because of your foolish pride? she asked, and stared into my eyes looking for the answer. We're all that's left of our family. Unless you come with us and hide, we will all be killed. Is that what you want? I shook my head, and Jocelyn was satisfied.

Rita and Jane had been enthralled by our exchange. But Rod is obviously Rod. He is a boy. He looks like a boy. How can we say he is a maid? demanded Rita, and Jane added Anyway, he's no idea what a maid does! We all looked at Jocelyn for answers. Jocelyn allowed herself a shy smile. Mother's suitcase has mothers clothes and makeup - and there's her long blond wig. We girls have until morning to transform Rod into our new maid ... we need a name? she hesitated, and Jane shouted Mary ... I always wanted a maid called Mary.  Mary it is then! concluded Jocelyn.

My head was spinning. I was sent into the bathroom with a razor and a special cream belonging to Jocelyn with instructions to shave all facial hair and my arms. The cream was a beard inhibitor. I was old enough to grow fine fluffy beard hairs, and the cream was supposed to help suppress them. Jocelyn told me to have a thorough shower afterwards, and use the pink shampoo sachet - it was for girls, and smelled like a boudoir. I hated it. I dried and wrapped a towel around my waist to emerge from the bathroom. I looked for my clothes, and Jane tittered I took your old boy clothes to the dumpster. Jocelyn said you wouldn't need them anymore. I felt gutted. I was now fully committed to their scheme. My escape route had been severed.

Mother and I were about the same size, and Jane and Rita were choosing my ensemble from mother's suitcase. Jocelyn spoke quietly, See, Mary. Their minds are occupied now. Grief is postponed, so don't rock the boat! she insisted.

Jane giggled as she handed me a pair of panties, and Rita vainly tried to hide her smirk. I had no alternative I slid them up my legs inside the towel and stowed away my accessories. They felt supportive as well as comfortable.

Take away the towel! Jane insisted, We want to see how they look! so I did as I was commanded. Jane giggled again, but Rita was critical. Jocelyn, we need to do something about that bulge. I blushed crimson and Jane giggled again, and handed me a nylon stocking. Roll it on up your leg and keep the seam straight! she commanded. I tried and tried again until she was satisfied, and then she clipped the garter belt around my waist. Like teaching a child she made me clip the suspenders onto the stocking tops again and again until she was satisfied. She watched carefully as I put on the other stocking without any help. Rita impatiently took over by clipping the brassiere around my chest. Mary has too much chest hair! she complained to Jocelyn, but Jocelyn had thought about that already, For the first few days, only we three will see Mary's chest and legs. We can sort out her hair problem later. For now she just needs to be acceptable as a girl at first glance.  Jane had crumpled some scarves into the cups of my brassiere, and was tugging a short slip over my head.  I think Mary needs the short black dress to be a maid, but Rita says the long skirt is more suitable. What do you think Jocelyn? Jocelyn looked at me critically. Mary has good legs, and they look even better in the nylons. Use the short dress, the leg show will distract uncle from her face.

I erupted, I am Rod! Not Mary. You can call me Mary when we get to uncle's house, but please, call me Rod until then!

Now, now, soothed Jocelyn, It's important that we always call you Mary, and you think of yourself as Mary. If any of us ever makes a slip, and uncle discovers the truth, it will all be over. Understand! I knew Jocelyn was right, but Jane didn't help with her childish rhyme, "Mary, Mary, quite contrary ... " she laughed unable to finish it, and I blushed again. Mother had packed flat-soled slippers, which felt comfortable on my feet. The three girls perched me on a stool, and cooperating closely, they plucked, daubed and painted until Jocelyn called a halt. That will have to do! Mary still needs to practice moving and acting like a girl. she said as Rita fitted my long blond wig.

The rest of that night, I was schooled in walking, standing, sitting and talking like a girl. I had to prepare my vocal chords before each utterance to produce a girlish voice, but it became simpler with practice. Jocelyn gave Jane a hairbrush, and told her to hit my derriere whenever I faltered or made a mistake. I glared at Jane, but she was an enthusiastic teacher. Jane's final idea was to teach me to curtsy, All maids need to curtsy all the time! she declared, and my protestations fell on deaf ears.

The skirt was too short to suit Jane's idea of a good curtsy, so she taught me to release my grip on the hem as I curtsied, and then to spread my wrists as I bowed over my bent knees. Of course Jane took great delight in correcting my poor poise when curtseying, but eventually she acknowledged that I 'would do'. The brush was then returned to the dressing table.

Daylight streamed through the window when the curtains were slowly drawn back, and four girls' faces stared out cautiously into the motel car parking area.

2. Introduction to Uncle

It was the laundry van. It was huge, and old and battered. It drove purposefully into the parking area, and backed up to the motel apartments. Instinctively we all drew back from the glass to watch it from 'safety' behind the couch. The signwriting was indecipherable from age, abuse and carelessness. It was definitely a suspicious vehicle. We looked at one another helplessly. There were gasps as two clumsy torpedoes exited from the passenger door. Their plain white overalls betrayed worrying bulges near their armpits. We were all backing further into the room as the two men grabbed trolleys from the back of the van, and after knocking entered apartment number one with their basket trolleys.

We all sighed in relief. The girls giggled, and I smiled. Look hard enough, and you will see what you expect! I quoted the family motto to my sisters, and they giggled in relief.

The two men were working their way along the entire row of motel apartments. One trolley contained folded and ironed new bedsheets, and the other was collecting the old bedding. Occasionally, they exchanged their trolleys with fresh trolleys from the back of the van.

When they knocked on our door, we let them in with light hearted laughter, but were immediately and expertly seized and piled two per trolley. We were speechless with shock and fear. I was at the bottom of our trolley - limbs all akimbo, and Jocelyn had been dumped on top of me. I heard grunts from the other trolley, and guessed that Rita and Jane were equally uncomfortable in their own trolley.

A disembodied voice rasped in ludicrous stage whisper, You kids stay quiet, and don't move. right? And the trolleys were moving. Even from my awkward position underneath Jocelyn, I could see that we were being pushed into the back of the van.

Our trolleys stopped, and our captors took two fresh trolleys,